Date: Tue, 23 May 2000 02:45:47 EDT
From: Gabriella Morrison
Subject: My Surprise Romance 6
Hi everyone (again!)
Still can't stop writing my story. I've gotten lots of positive feedback on
these chapters already and I thank you who have e-mailed me with your
encouraging comments . My big question now is, Am I getting to sappy or
unrealistic, or heaven forbid, too `teenage' with this story? I'd really
like to know. So...if you haven't mailed me yet (or if you would like to
again, with a response to my question) the address is :
sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Good and bad criticism is
welcome. Thanks. Love, Gabriella.
DISCLAIMER: Warning, warning, warning...this is a fictional story and is
not meant to imply the sexuality of any member of N Sync or Lance
Bass--silly that I'm writing this type of story when I have the hots for
him myself, isn't it? :) Anyhoo, this story involves a m/m relationship
and you have to be old enough (18? 21?) to read it. If not, then honey,
turn back!! If this type of reading material bugs you then I suggest you
reach for some Shakespeare or something of the like. I think I've covered
everything...and now...the story....
My Surprise Romance
Chapter 6
Lance and I walked back to the car, and I felt as though I was on cloud
nine. As we walked through the grassy park, I couldn't help stealing
another look at him. I would have never imagined that someone so wonderful
would even think about being involved with me.
Lance looked up, catching me eying him. "Okay?" he asked, taking my hand in
his.
"Fine," I said, as we reached the gates of the park. My car was still
there, still alone. And I was glad. That meant that (hopefully) no one saw
our embrace by the lake. Once we reached the car, reality had sunk in. This
relationship would never work out, I thought. He was a star, on the road
most of his life--and what was I? A soon-to-be-senior year art student, who
could barely make ends meet when his tuition bill came around at the
beginning of every semester. I opened the car door, leaning over to pop the
lock up on Lance's door. He let himself in and I started the ignition,
wordlessly pulling out of the parking lot. Once we were back on the road,
I felt a little more stable. I had to concentrate on my driving, as not to
get into an accident (imagine those headlines, I thought as I reached a red
light).
"So, you want me to drop you back off at the hotel?" I asked Lance, who was
staring out of the window. He turned to me, and bit his lower lip.
"No way," Lance spit out, his face darkening. And then suddenly, the frown
was replaced by a shaky smile. "I mean, not yet. Can't we go back to your
house?"
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sure," I said in amazement. "If you
really want to go back to my crappy house that badly?" I teased him.
"Never been surer--" He stopped in mid-sentence. "Wait, is your mother
going to be home?" he asked, with a worried look on his face. I mentally
went through my mother's Monday schedule. Nope, she was volunteering at the
day care center, I thought. And then she'd be going to work straight from
there.
Despite my knowledge of her schedule, I decided to tease him for a
second. "Oh, Lance," I said, fluttering my eyelashes. "Aren't we moving a
bit fast?" I swooned, placing a hand over my heart.
I had never seen a person's face turn such a bright shade of red.
About twenty minutes later, Lance and I pulled into my driveway. We had the
stereo turned up, blaring the Dixie Chicks' song that had came on the
radio.
"'Cause Earl had to die...na na na na na na...." Lance sang along in his
deep voice, before I shut the engine off. He looked at me in mock
annoyance.
"Hey, I was singing along to that!" he complained, letting his mouth drop
open. I rolled my eyes and opened the car door.
"You call that *singing*? No wonder you rarely have any solos," I joked, as
I got out of the car. Lance threw his hat at me and I ducked to avoid it
hitting my face. "Better watch out--some of those old ladies might come
outside and chase you for your autograph if you don't have that hat on." I
ran into the house through the back door, with Lance in hot pursuit. I
managed to slam the door in his face, just as he was about to run inside.
"Hey!" He screamed. "Let me in!" I stood there and watched as he tried the
doorknob, which I had already locked. Lance began to bang on the door and I
watched him, laughing my ass off as he frantically pounded on the door.
"Afraid of the old ladies?" I yelled through the plexiglass window at
him. The look on his face was priceless as he kept pounding on the door. I
finally decided that Lance had enough torture for the day, and unlocked the
door, watching him stumble into the kitchen, panting from yelling.
"Very funny, Stephen," Lance said, with a disgusted look on his face. He
closed the door behind him and walked over to me, trapping me in the corner
of the kitchen. "You really hurt my feelings doing that."
"Aww, poor baby," I said, running my fingers through his blonde hair. "Hope
I didn't hurt your feelings *too* bad." Lance slipped one arm around my
waist and pulled me closer to him.
"Well, you did," he griped. "You hurt me so bad, I don't think I can do
what I had planned," Lance said, his face softening into a grin.
"And what would that be?"
"This." Lance tipped my chin downwards and moved his mouth to mine, kissing
me quite passionately. I wasn't used to the feelings that were spinning
throughout my body. I was quite shocked at how fast we had gone from
playful to passionate. But I was even more shocked at the feelings of lust
rapidly coursing through my body, as Lance's tongue met mine and explored
my mouth. He was now holding on to me for dear life, as my hands
frantically ran up and down his back.
We pulled apart very briefly, and then almost immediately our mouths met
once again. I felt his groin pressing against mine, and my only response
was to kiss him even deeper. And then...
"Stephen? Is that you?" Lance and I pulled apart faster than you could say
the words, `cold shower'. Natalie called my name once more, and I cleared
my throat as Lance stepped away from me. Natalie appeared in the kitchen
just then, ready to say `hello', when she caught sight of Lance standing in
the corner, smoothing down his hair.
"Oh my God!' she shrieked. "What's he doing here?!?!" I looked at the
blushing pop star and he gave me a shrug, as if to say, "Hey, it's your
problem--not mine." He was right. What *was* I going to tell my sister?
"Um, Natalie...Lance came here because...because..." I was at a loss for
words, my mind still lingering on the incredible kisses that I had just
experienced. It was hard to pull my mind back into reality, even with that
eleven year old firecracker standing in front of me.
"Because I wanted to see you again," Lance broke in, walking over to my
sister. He knelt down to her and my sister started shaking. It must be
inconceivable to a eleven year old, why a member of her favorite band wants
to see her again. Was it her looks? Or her personality? Nope, I thought to
myself, hiding a laugh, it was her brother.
"I wanted to see how...how your day at school went. You weren't tired or
anything, were you?" Lance questioned her. "I don't want you failing any
subjects on the account of me and the guys."
Natalie's eyes grew wide. "Oh, no...no. But me and Angela and Beth were the
most popular girls in school today. Everyone wanted to talk to us." She
frowned momentarily. "Except for Bobby Jenkins. On the playground, he said
that you guys were gay." Lance turned the color of a ghost, as Natalie
twisted up her face into a confused expression. "You aren't, are you?"
Lance swallowed and smiled at my sister. How could he lie to Natalie, when
he had just been making out with her brother a few seconds ago? "Of course
not, honey," Lance said, his voice shaking. "He was just being mean. Guys
that age are like that." Natalie beamed at his answer and then she turned
to me.
"Stephen, I'm going over to Beth's house in a few minutes. We're planning a
party for this weekend and Beth's mom promised she take us shopping for
crepe paper and balloons, okay?" I just leaned against the counter and
nodded and she looked at Lance. "You're welcome to come along," she said
hopefully.
Lance just laughed and ruffled her hair. "Thanks, but I've gotta get back
to the hotel, honey. I have to leave tomorrow night."
Tomorrow night, I thought with dismay. About twenty-four hours from now,
Lance would be getting on that tour bus and leaving me. Perfect. My
worst-case scenario had just come to life and to be honest with you, it was
a fitting tribute to my life. Just then we heard a car horn honking, and
Natalie grabbed her jacket and hugged Lance good-bye. We heard the door
slam and Lance and I were left standing there in the kitchen, staring at
each other.
He looked embarrassed and the realization of how close we were to being
caught sank in. Lance looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze, so deeply that
I put my head down.
"She doesn't know does she--about you being gay?" he asked quietly. I shook
my head.
"Are you kidding me? My mother almost didn't want me going near Nat after I
came out," I said bitterly. "She was afraid it was contagious or
something. Besides, I couldn't tell Nat that--it'd break her heart. She's
always looking for the perfect woman for me."
Lance laughed at this, and then walked over to me. "Stephen...we have to
talk," he said, sliding a hand onto my shoulder.
"Don't get all serious on me," I said lightly. I didn't feel like getting
into a big discussion or anything like that. To be honest, I just wanted
Lance to leave. I didn't feel like talking to him or looking at him or
anything. How was I so stupid to actually think that a relationship between
Lance and I could work? I must have been living in a dream world, I thought
to myself as I shook his hand off my shoulder. I went to sit down at the
kitchen table and Lance followed suit. We wound up in the exact same chairs
that we had been sitting in the night before. I wished I could have rewound
to that part of the previous night and erased what I had said about my
sexuality. If I had never mentioned it, the events of the day wouldn't have
occurred and we would have been both pushing forward with our separate
lives.
But we weren't. Irony had decided to meddle. Our lives had become
intertwined and now we had to be pulled apart. I had followed my heart way
too fast, like jumping into a freezing cold pool when you know it's going
to be unpleasant.
"Stephen," Lance repeated. I looked up at him. "I know what you're
thinking."
"Oh yeah?" I asked somewhat gloomily. "What?"
"You're thinking that there's no way in hell we can continue this, right?
Since I have to go back on tour, I'll forget about you, right?" I nodded
wordlessly. And Lance continued.
"I think you're wrong...there's no way I would forget you. I told you--I
think I'm falling in love with you. And you can't just forget
something--someone--like you. It's impossible." He took a deep breath and
went on. "If I wasn't in `N Sync...and we had met, I'd still feel the same
way. Think about it, Stephen. You didn't even know who I was when we first
met. I was just some guy who happened to be in a band and we met and we
clicked. Isn't that how most romances start?"
"Yeah, but..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say next. He had a point
and instead of opening my mouth with my usual pessimistic thoughts, I just
decided to listen to him.
"And what if I wasn't in this band, but let's say I was a businessman with
a job that kept me away from you? We'd still keep in touch and in the end,
I'd come back home to you." He grinned, and placed his soft hand over
mine. "See, no big deal?"
"It sounds so easy when you put it like that," I said, finally flashing him
a true smile. "But I've only known you for one day. One day," I
emphasized. "You don't know anything about me, except for what I've told
you so far. At least I can pick up a magazine and find out stuff about
you." I let out a sigh. "What if you find out about my bad habits and
decide you never want to see me again?"
"Try me," he said challengely. He leaned back and folded his arms over his
chest, his green eyes flashing mischievously.
"I pick my nose in the shower," I admitted. And then I clamped my mouth
shut, not believing that I told him that.
"Yeah, so? Chris does that too. I bite my nails and then spit them across
the room, how's that for being gross?" Lance snickered.
"Oh forget it then. Nose picking is one thing, but biting your nails is
another," I joked, as Lance pretended to look offended. "Oh well," I
sighed. "I guess I'll have to overlook the imperfections. I *think* you're
worth it."
"Think?" Lance said, raising a perfectly groomed brown eyebrow, as he rose
from his seat. He walked over to me, dropped himself into my lap and placed
his arms around my neck. "What do I have to do to show you?"
"How about a kiss?" I said in mock seduction, playing with the silver cross
that lay around his neck. Lance rolled his eyes at my pathetic attempt to
be seductive, but grinned despite it.
"Slave driver," he murmured, tracing the outline of my lips. Lance looked
down into my eyes while doing this and whatever distressing thoughts were
clouding my mind, disappeared when his lips touched mine. We sat there
intertwined for a few more minutes, oblivious to the world spinning around
us. I could have stayed that way forever. Until the telephone rang.
With our mouths still attached to one another's, our eyes simultaneously
flew open.
"You've got to be kidding," Lance whispered his lips moving against
mine. "Someone is against us, aren't they?"
"I think so," I said dejectedly, as Lance slid off of my lap and I got up
to answer the phone. "Hello?" I said, sounding thoroughly depressed.
"Jesus--you call a person all happy and then you get someone who sounds
like they lost their best friend. God, Stephen, aren't you gay people
supposed to be, well...gay? Like, all the time? Or are you the exception to
the rule?"
My face broke out into a smile when I realized who it was, "Hey, bitch," I
said to Cynthia. "Back already?" I looked over at Lance, who smiled at
me. I placed my hand over the receiver.
"It's Cynthia. She's my cousin who--" I began, but Lance interrupted me.
"I know, I know," he said in his deep voice. "Your cousin who thinks it's
great to have a gay cousin. I remember you telling me that at the park,"
Lance said knowingly. I sighed. Not only was a extraordinary kisser, but he
was obviously was a good listener as well. Even I didn't remember talking
about Cynthia at the park. I shook my head, as I placed the receiver back
to my ear.
"Ooh, who's that?" Cynthia inquired. "Oh, Stevie--" I rolled my eyes at
hearing the sound of my childhood nickname. "--did you find someone? You
know," she barreled on, "I was looking all around campus for a boyfriend
for you, but," she sighed, "I couldn't find anyone who was your type."
I closed my eyes, picturing Cynthia, sitting on the sunporch at her house,
with her feet propped up on the table. When I had last saw her, she was in
her vintage clothing stage, wearing strange housewife dresses and saddle
shoes. God, only knew what another year away from home did to her.
"I didn't know I had a type," I laughed, as Lance returned to the table,
with a carton of ice cream. He mouthed the words, `I'm starving again' to
me, while I had to hold back a laugh. "But thanks for looking, Cynth...good
to know that someone cares."
"I thought I heard a voice--a male voice--" she said suspiciously. "Come
on, out with it. Do you have a boyfriend there or not?" God, she was
nosy. But then, nosiness ran through the whole Peterson blood line, I
guess.
"I don't know if you'd call him that," I said a bit nervously. More nervous
than I had expected.
"But you found someone," she persisted. I could hear her smile all the way
over the phone. And in spite of myself, I found that her happiness was
contagious.
"I guess..." I said, unsure. Cynthia suddenly let out a bloodcurdling
scream--obviously, screaming ran though the female side of the family. My
sister, my mother and now my first cousin. A family of screaming women. I
held the phone away from my ear in order not to go deaf, and Lance looked
up in concern.
"Is she okay?" he asked, still scooping out the ice cream into a
dish. `Fine', I mouthed to him and placed the phone back to my ear.
"Oh my God, was that him? Oh, I love his voice--let me talk to him,
Stevie," Cynthia exclaimed. She couldn't talk to him, I thought
hastily. And quickly, I changed the subject.
"So Cynthia, how's the little part-time job going?" I closed my eyes again,
this time not imagining how she looked, but what she was going to say
next. Cynthia let out a wicked laugh.
"Oh, you mean the t-shirts? Great, great--you wouldn't believe how many
people hate those bands! I've made over three hundred dollars and everyone
on campus wanted one!" I let out a sigh, allowing my mouth to fall open
which gave Lance the perfect opportunity to feed me a spoonful of ice
cream. However, despite the fact that I thought it was a sweet gesture, my
mind was still on my cousin.
See, Cynthia had come up with this new...business, if you'd call it
that. She had taken a silkscreening class in college and learned how to
make her own t-shirt designs. And combining that talent with her own
personal hatred, she came up with her own line of t-shirts: I Hate Boy
Bands. Yes, that's right, the I Hate Boy Bands designer t-shirt line. She
hated all of those bands with a vengeance. Maybe it was because she played
the guitar in an on-again/off-again punk band. Believe me, I never
understood why she hated them so much, but at that time I thought her idea
was hilarious. She sold them on campus for eight dollars and made a
fortune. Cynth even gave me one for a Christmas present. It was nice. I
sometimes slept in it, which caused Natalie to cry.
How the hell would she react when she found out who I was dating? Cynthia
was the only person who supported me in my decision to come out and now she
would probably throw a Grade-A hissy fit when she found out that my
romantic interest was none other than Lance Bass, a member of `N Sync and a
target of her t-shirt rants.
"So, Stevie, guess who's coming over to stay with you during the summer?"
Cynthia said in a coy voice. I spit out the ice cream and Lance looked at
me with a shocked expression. I turned away from him and realized that I
was suddenly close to hyperventilating. I got off the chair and walked away
from the table.
"You?" I asked in shock. I could hear her nod over the phone.
"Yeah, mom and dad are heading off to Vermont, and Wilson (her brother, for
those of you who are wondering) is moving to New York City...so I have
nowhere to go." She paused. "Didn't your mother tell you the details? I
called her this afternoon."
"I was out," I said, shortly, placing a hand to my forehead.
"Ohhhh," she said, laughing. "I know with who. Well, you're supposed to
pick me up at the airport at seven a.m. sharp. That's when my flight comes
in."
"I am?" I said. I felt like I was in a daze. Other people were planning my
life for me and, of course, I was the last to know.
"Yup. So I'll see you tomorrow, Stevie. And I'll bring a t-shirt along for
your boy-friend," she said in a sing-song voice.
"Cynthia," I said, rolling my eyes again. I swear by the time the
conversation was over, my eyes would be stuck in the back of my head. "How
old are you?"
"Nineteen--why?"
"Are you sure you're not nine? Natalie's more mature than you." She just
laughed at me and we said our good-byes. I hung up the phone and turned
around to see Lance staring at me with a confused expression on his face.
"Stephen, if you didn't like vanilla ice cream, you could have told me," he
grumbled. I let out a laugh and sat back down.
"No, no...I love vanilla--" I began, and Lance fed me another spoonful of
ice cream.
"Good," he said, a grin on his face. "I was beginning to think that this
family is weird--a mother who doesn't like caffeine, a boyfriend who
doesn't like vanilla ice cream..."
My head snapped in his direction. "Did you just call me..."
"Boyfriend?" Lance said. "Yeah, I did. What would you call me?" I was at a
loss for words, so Lance went ahead and placed another spoonful of ice
cream in my mouth. I didn't argue. The idea of being someone's boyfriend
was pretty darn appealing, so I just went on and told him about Cynthia.
"My cousin hates you," I told him flatly, making a clucking sound with my
tongue.
Lance looked at me in surprise. "She's jealous? Is there something you're
not telling me about you and your--" he raised his eyebrows suggestively,
"--cousin?" I punched him in the arm.
"Pervert," I said teasingly. "No, it's just that she hates a certain genre
of bands--and, my dear, I'm afraid you're in one of them."
"Oh no," Lance muttered. "Not another boy-band hater?"
"The number one boy-band hater, I should add," I said. "She runs her own
line of chic t-shirts with that slogan on them. Oh and by the way, she's
bringing you one tomorrow."
"She's coming over tomorrow?" Lance said in surprise. "Aw, damn, I thought
we could spend another day together tomorrow."
"Don't you have a band to get back to?" I asked him, as he placed another
spoonful of almost melted ice cream in my mouth.
"Yeah, but I'll see them all summer, for the next couple of months or
so. You, however, I'll be lucky to talk to in between rehearsals and on the
bus." He sighed. "I can't believe your cousin is coming tomorrow," he said,
almost whining.
I sat there. "Well, I'm picking up Cynthia tomorrow at seven. Who says we
can't spend the rest of the day together? Besides, you mine as well meet
her," I sighed. "Love me, love my family," I muttered under my breath.
"Hey...I know you...how bad could the rest of your family be," Lance said
with a mischievous grin. I took the spoon from him and tapped him on the
head. He just shook his head.
"Once again, I'm being assaulted by my boyfriend. Keep it up and you won't
be getting any of this," Lance threatened and puckered his lips at me. I
leaned over the table and placed my face close to his.
"Oh, I think I'll find a way," I whispered, before kissing him for what
seemed like the hundredth time that night. I noticed that the sweetness of
the ice cream lingered on his lips, as we came up for a breath of air.
"Is that a promise, or a threat?" Lance managed to say, his breathing
becoming heavier as our lips met again.
"Both."
Well that's it for Chapter Six. Chapter Seven will be coming very shortly
since I'm on a roll and I don't want to stop before I lose my train of
thought. I'd really like it if everyone who reads this story to e-mail me
whether you like it or hate it or think I need to do something else with my
free time. I'm down on my knees again--and I'm getting brushburns! ; )
Remember, the address is ...sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com ! Oh and one
line was used from the Dixie Chicks song, `Goodbye Earl', written by Dennis
Linde. I'm not sure if I need this, but I don't feel like getting sued
today. Anyways, thanks for reading...Gabriella.